Scandalous!
by The Unbreakable Snape Fan
Summary: The gang is in high school. Ashley Q. is kicked out of the Ashleys. Mikey is upset. Femslash. Ashley Q.Spinelli
1. Chapter 1

**Scandalous!**

She could barely contain her anger. She cleared her throat, slowly unclenched her fists, and began to doodle. She drew Ashleys. Ashleys in mortal peril. Ashleys in pain. Somehow, it seemed to set her mind at ease.

"No, really," said the redhead to her left. "Did you go dumpster diving for outfits, or what?"

Spinelli counted. She went over the wrestling performance she's seen on the TV just the other night in her mind. She carefully breathed in. And out. And in. And out again.

"You've worn that same kind of stuff since elementary school. This is high school, Spinelli. I'm sorry no one told you to change styles already, but we'd all figured it would be obvious. Trash can only be around for so long before someone finally takes notice, you know—though I guess by now you're used to the smell."

Spinelli grit her teeth. She couldn't give Ashley Q. the satisfaction of a violent reaction. "Isn't fashion supposed to be about looking good?"

"Of course."

"Well what if I think you look like shit?" Spinelli muttered. "What if I think you look like a tramp?" she said, glancing over at her, smirking in satisfaction as the other girl's face colored.

"I'd rather look like a tramp than a hobo," she bit out finally. She turned back to her assignment in the din of the other whispers around the room. She stared at the questions in the book blankly.

Spinelli grinned to herself and returned to torturing two-dimensional Ashleys. Especially one she made to look like Ashley Quinlan, complete with red pen for hair. And blood.

"No wonder your GPA is so bad. Is that what you do all day in class? I'd expect you to fail classes at that rate," said Ashley T. "Although, maybe your widdle girlfriend Grundler does all the work _for_ you."

Spinelli concentrated on breathing again. She turned to her right to look at Ashley Tomassian, and turned back to write "ASHLEY T." under one particularly crude drawing. Ashley T. didn't miss this, and curled a lip.

Spinelli had almost thought the bell was never going to ring. But, of course, it did, much to her relief.

"If I have to listen to another goddamn Ashley put me down," she growled quietly to Vince in the hall, "I'm not sure I can be held entirely accountable for my actions." She had subconsciously rolled up her sleeves a bit as if readying for a fight.

Vince shot her a sympathetic look. "Yeah, I don't know what their problem is. They're probably just jealous."

Spinelli snorted, "Of what?"

Vince merely shrugged.

"Oh, you know," said Mikey from behind them, "Your mere ability to be free and embrace the person you are. For people who seem to hide behind the anonymity that is the fashion world, they must envy your refusal to give into it. Like a bird, you are, Spinelli—a raven with a beak full of pride!"

"Uh . . . thanks." Mikey was so weird sometimes.

He put a large hand on her shoulder. "No problem, Spinelli."

Mikey usually helped calm Spinelli down. But right now she still felt pretty angry.

Gus made his way over to them as they neared the cafeteria, smiling until he saw Spinelli's expression. "What is it, Spinelli? Randal? Ashleys?"

"Ashleys," she grit out.

"What did they say this time?"

"Wardrobe. Grades. Sexuality. Brains." She nearly snarled.

Gus nodded understandingly. "Well, at least it's steak pizza day," he said helpfully, leading them over to an empty table on which he placed his backpack and the rest followed suit. "Wait," he said after a second, "are you gay?"

Spinelli stared at him blankly. "Really, Gus, what I am is what they call asexual. Nothing really looks that appetizing, if you catch my drift."

Gus nodded.

"Don't tell Gretchen," said Spinelli, "but Ashley T. keeps calling her my _girlfriend_."

"It's pretty bad, isn't it?" said Mikey.

"Yeah," Spinelli said honestly. "It is."

"Why not just deny?" Vince said seriously.

"Are you stupid or something?" barked Spinelli, "Since when has denying something like that ever helped someone's case?"

"Good point," he admitted.

"Hey, guys!" said Gretchen, approaching with her tray already. She moved the things on the table over to make room for it.

"Not a word," said Spinelli as they made their way toward the line. The boys nodded. It was her burden to bear if the Ashleys were going to try and bring Gretchen into things. They didn't seem to bother with Gretchen much, usually just Spinelli. Calling Gretchen her "widdle" girlfriend was only an attempt to get at Spinelli, and no one else. She knew that completely.

"O, to be that which doth persecute," said Mikey quietly.

The steak pizza almost took away the gnawing anger and resentment and utter preoccupation clouding Spinelli's mind, but . . . not quite. Even still, it was steak pizza, so it did help a little. Steak pizza, she was quite sure, could help to fix almost anything. Given time.


	2. Chapter 2

Ashley A. smiled and flipped her blonde hair. "Let's go over to your house, Ashley Q."

"Oh yeah, totally," said Ashley T.

"You have to show us the new curtains around your bed," said Ashley B., thinking quickly.

"Oh yeah," said Ashley Q. She'd almost forgotten about those.

"I can't wait to see that dog of yours again, Ashley Q. Totally adorable!"

"Oh yeah, totally," agreed Ashley T.

"I've never gotten to see it," said Ashley B.

"Oh no way!" said Ashley A.

"I know!" said Ashley T.

"That settles it," said Ashley Q. "You're coming over right now. I'll just call Mom and tell her."

"Please do!"

So the girls all headed over to Ashley Q.'s house—but little did she know that the other three girls were planning to peek in her diary. That was the real reason for the sudden visit. Ashley law stated that an Ashley's diary was private and personal up until the point at which all other Ashleys had voted unanimously that something was amiss and that further investigation into the remaining Ashley's life was required, thus rendering the privacy of said Ashley as moot in the light of protecting said Ashley and the rest of the group—and that if doing both was not possible, the group was to be protected, and not the single Ashley, for the good of the rest of the Ashleys and their way of life.

The tip-off that something wasn't quite right? Ashley Q. had worn the same outfit twice within a two-week period. There was a chance that she had just been preoccupied with the prospect of the shopping spree she supposedly had been about to take over the weekend with her aunt from Paris. Ashley T. hoped that was really all that was troubling her.

They feigned enthusiasm for the curtains on the bed. They had to get Ashley Q. out of her own bedroom, and they knew it. "Dog," Ashley T. mouthed to Ashley B.

"So, Ashley Q.," said Ashley B., taking the hint, "can I see Fawn now?" What kind of a name was Fawn for a poodle?

"Oh, yeah! Hey, didn't you want to say hi to her again too, Ashley A.?"

Ashley A. wanted to stay, desperately wanted to stay and search for the diary. She nodded enthusiastically, though, playing her part. "Yes!"

"I think I'll study your line-up, if that's okay," said Ashley T. warmly. Ashley Q. nodded and led the other two down the stairs again. Ashley T. immediately stepped into action.

She did indeed look at the clothing hanging in the closet, and felt her mouth go dry. She couldn't see a single new item. No weekend shopping spree, then? Or just no purchases? She was really worried now. After a few guesses of hiding locations, she found the diary beneath Ashley Q.'s pillow. There was no lock. Ashley T.'s fingers danced as they flicked through heart-covered pages. She stopped on the last entry. She read something about the visit being great, but not feeling like shopping.

She went back an entry. Still no explanations. Then back a few more and—oh . . . was that _senior_ Max she was talking about? How could she possibly turn him down for a date? She furiously flipped a few more pages back.

Oh. _That_ was why. Awkward.

Ashley T. let the news sink in for only a short moment before replacing the diary beneath the pillow and standing to look inside the closet again. She grabbed a hanger that held a purple, sequined dress and held it in front of herself in the full-length mirror, just so as not to draw suspicion when the Ashleys returned.

"You like that one?" asked Ashley Q.

"Yeah, I do," said Ashley T.

"You could wear it to Homecoming this year," said Ashley Q. with a smile.

"Really? Thanks, Ashley Q. You're so sweet." And gay.

"No problem."

But there _was_ a problem. Ashley T. was nervous. She wasn't sure what she should do. Did she tell the other Ashleys, or did she keep it a secret? For a moment, a frown of deep thought passed over her countenance. Would Ashley Q. be in trouble with the Ashley law? Should she say nothing? But . . . what if Ashley Q. told them herself, or if the truth came out somehow. What if one of the other girls looked in the diary? Ashley T. wondered how on earth she would weasel her way out of any of that.

So . . . Ashley Q. was, like, so totally a lesbian. Like . . . wow.

And, just when these thoughts were raging inside of her, Ashley B. asked her if she was alright. She nodded slowly. "Can I see your straightener really quick, Ashley Q.?" she almost winced at the notion that the item was meant to make things, well, straight. Which Ashley Q. was apparently not.

"Yeah!" said Ashley Q.

"You can just stay in here with Ashley A. I wanted to straighten Ashley B.'s hair earlier, but I don't have my own straightener."_ Not that I need one,_ she thought with a bit of humor in her eyes,_ I'm the one who's straight already._

"Okay," said Ashley Q. with a shrug.

"Ashley B.," Ashley T. whispered as she started to work on the dark hair.

"What?" asked Ashley B.

"I found something."

"What?"

"Ashley Quinlan is . . . gay."

"No way."

"Yes way," she hissed in reply, trying to keep very quiet. Ashley Q. couldn't find out it was her who blabbed. "So, do we tell Ashley A.?"

"Oh, we have to now," said Ashley B.

"We could just forget about it," Ashley T. said. "For, you know, the good of the Ashleys."

"No," said Ashley B. ominously, "it's for the good of the Ashleys that we're going to tell Ashley A. And ASAP."

"Maybe you're right." She hoped she was. But she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that she wasn't.


	3. Chapter 3

"I wish I could dream about Max Hart like I do Angela." Those were some of the words on the page. Ashley T. remembered them quite clearly. She was the only link to Ashley Q.'s inner-most thoughts—had she betrayed her? Did she have the ability to fully get the whole picture of Ashley Q. from pages to words to the minds of the other Ashleys?

Ashley T. wondered why Ashley Q. had written so freely, knowing the diary rule. Did she want them to find out, or something?

And then Ashley T. realized, with a horrible jolt, that she too had forgotten "The Most Sacred and Ancient Rule of the Diary." That was, like, totally ironic, because the last time she could remember the rule being used was in seventh grade and it was her _own _diary then.

She, Ashley T., had once written about how she had actually enjoyed a fishing trip her family forced her on. Oh come on, her brother had baited the hook, and her brother's cute friend was there! Plus, she was able to miss school. She hadn't been in any true danger of being kicked out—nothing ruled against enjoying the outdoors, they'd all looked over and over again. She was safe. But, as for Ashley Q.? Probably not quite as safe . . . .

Ashley T. wished she could eavesdrop in on the conversation, but she was supposed to occupy Ashley Q. They started talking about History class, the class they had with Spinelli. Ashley T. liked to tease Spinelli about being a lesbian, but now that she knew Ashley Q. was one, that just seemed cruel.

* * *

Ashley B. told Ashley A. to sit down on the bench in a more-or-less deserted hall. 

"Alright, Ashley B., what is it?" asked the blonde.

"Well, Ashley A., I heard from Ashley T. what's bothering Ashley Q."

She paused, and they both scowled darkly at the boy who decided to pass through the hall at that moment.

As soon as the hall was empty again, Ashley B. continued. "Ashley Q. is a lesbian."

"Oh my God, really?"

"Really. You know what this means, don't you?"

"What?"

"She's going to develop crushes on us—probably already has. And Ashleys do not date other Ashleys," she said in a somber tone. "In fact, Ashleys only date—"

"Popular boys," finished Ashley A., deep in thought.

"We, the Ashleys, are concerned with our group image."

"More than Ashley Q.'s feelings?" said Ashley A. timidly. She may be the designated leader, but Ashley B. was not someone she wanted to upset.

"Well how would it look? In fact, her fashion sense may be deteriorating as we speak—and remember how good she is at kickball?" her eyes narrowed.

"Yeah, that_ was_ a little un-Ashley," admitted Ashley A. "So, we really have to push her out? Out on the streets of our high school? It just sounds so . . . ."

"Harsh. Yeah. But hey, she did put it in the diary. I think she wanted us to know. O, poor, brave Ashley Q.! She was willing to sacrifice herself for the Ashley image."

"Can't we just . . . change the rule?"

Ashley B. paused. "Ashley A. Are you really willing to ruin the significance of her actions? She wrote that all for a reason."

"Maybe she didn't remember the rule," said Ashley A., in a last attempt.

"Ashley A. Are you a leader or not? Maybe I need to take your place, if you're going to get cold feet about protecting our Ashley community. Got it?"

Ashley A. nodded, then lowered her head a little. She supposed it had to be done.

* * *

"So, we're going to out her like that?" asked Ashley T. nervously. "Really? I mean, that seems so heartless." 

"It's Ashley tradition, spanning from the second meeting of the Ashleys ever," said Ashley A., looking a bit miserable. "The crime must be read off in a public area of the school. Used to say playground—revision made after sixth grade graduation."

Ashley T. nodded slowly.

"It's for the best," said Ashley B. She licked her lip. She wasn't entirely sure of that herself, if she was completely honest. But she thought it was better to be certain of something wrong than to not be certain of anything at all.

"Tomorrow we split with Ashley Q."

"Traditional Ashley Class-Before Notice?"

Ashley B. nodded. "Definitely. Give her some time to prepare for it."

Ashley T. felt that, perhaps, being outed in front of the entire student body during lunch was something no one could adequately prepare for. Maybe she'd let it slip to Ashley Q. beforehand. It was, after all, her fault the redhead was in danger of being kicked out anyway.


End file.
